


See the Stars

by SnowLeopard8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Image, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowLeopard8/pseuds/SnowLeopard8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected encounter brings drastic changes for Stiles while a new threat looms in the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so….In my headcannon, I’ve taken a lot of things that I know happened and basically ignored them. To be forthright, I pretty much got hooked on this fandom through fanfiction, more so than the show. I’ve only watched the first 2 seasons. I have to admit, a lot of what I know is in the works sorta pisses me off. :D
> 
> So here it is: Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Allison - all alive. One big happy pack. No true alpha stuff, etc, etc. Also - Stiles turned 16 in the spring of his freshman year of high school because he got held back as a kid (ADHD combined with parent death makes this very plausible in my mind..) 
> 
> And one last note: This is my first attempt at writing something like this. Sorry if there is any lameness involved. I’m really hoping I can bring the idea in my head to life and give the subject matter the depth and respect it warrants. Constructive crit welcomed and appreciated!

January - Senior Year

The weather was crisp and cool as Stiles left the building. They’d only been back from winter break for a week, but he was already ready to be finished. Senioritis had more than officially kicked in and he, along with the other members of the Hale pack, was ready to be done with high school. 

It had been suspiciously quiet for the last few months, especially after how crazy things had been since they’d stumbled into the world of the supernatural. Stiles was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Call him an optimist, but he expected it to fall with all the grace of an acme anvil when it did.

He reached the parking lot just as the very practical - and very black - SUV pulled up. A shiver ran down his spine when his eyes connected with a pair of dark sunglasses, one eyebrow raised suggestively above. Even after all this time, he still felt the same intense, visceral reaction when he saw Derek. His boyfriend (he grimaced internally at the title - so juvenile), but yeah….all his. And with the way things had been between them back at the start, well...sometimes he still wondered if he had somehow slipped into a coma and was just dreaming all of this up in his own mind as a way to pass the time.

They’d been officially together since Stiles turned 18 the year before - almost a year now...8 months….whatever, who’s counting? Suffice to say, his dad had not been overly impressed at the thought of his 18 year old son dating someone 6 years older than him, but he’d adapted. They’d all adapted. His dad’s stance on their relationship had basically been, yes, Stiles was an adult, an adult in high school, with plans for the future. So, while he was still in high school (and actively going to school during the term), nights were spent at his dad’s house. Weekends, summers, and breaks were fair game, as long as he gave his dad a head’s up and didn’t overshare the joy...

Derek’s mouth slipped into a familiar smirk and Stiles rolled his eyes, but grinned slightly, as he got closer to the car. Bastard had figured out where Stiles’ thoughts had meandered. 

“Hey, Stiles, Derek!” 

His best friend’s voice interrupted those meandering thoughts and Stiles turned to look at Scott who was heading closer with his arm wrapped around Kira’s shoulders. Stiles paused with his hand wrapped around the top edge of the open passenger door.

“Are we at your dad’s or the loft tonight?” Scott asked, looking between the two.

“Loft,” Stiles replied quickly. His dad was working a swing shift, which….yeah, bad timing plus Friday night, etc….the loft just made more sense with his grand plan for the next 36-ish hours.

Scott grinned knowingly. “Uh huh. Ok, we’ll be over in a bit, then. Try not to stink the place out too much.”

Stiles felt the tips of his ears burn slightly and cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he deadpanned.

Kira snorted. “Sure, Stiles. See you guys later,” she said and tugged Scott away.

With that out of the way, Stiles climbed into the passenger seat. “Hey, Snookums.”

The eyebrow raised higher. “Hi, Stanisław.”

“Dude! Come on, we talked about that!” Stiles cried, looking around to make sure no one else was in earshot. Scott flicked a grin over his shoulder as he walked away.

Derek nodded once. “You are correct. We did talk about names that we don’t appreciate,” was his response.

Stiles flapped his arms a bit. “Yeah. Right. Ok. Derek,” he said, followed by a huge sigh as he sank back into the comfortable seat. His mood was still unsettled.

Derek, especially observant when it came to Stiles, glanced his way as he pulled out of the parking lot. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles didn’t answer right away. He turned his head to watch the scenery pass by for a few moments. Derek let the quiet stand, but felt even more that something was off. While Stiles had been much more subdued since the nogitsune incident, his talkative nature had rebounded well, for the most part. When he was quiet was when Derek worried most.

FInally, as they pulled onto Derek’s street, he heard a deep breath and Stiles looked to Derek. “Something’s coming,” Stiles said, ominously quiet.

Immediately, Derek’s hackles went up. “What do you mean? Did Deaton call you?” he asked urgently.

Stiles shook his head. “No, no...nothing like that. It’s just….I can’t shake this feeling that it’s been too quiet and we’re about to pay the bill for that peace. With interest,” he grimaced.

Derek relaxed slightly. He had been enjoying the quiet and really had no desire to go borrowing trouble. “Ah.”

Stiles gaped at him for a moment. “A man of many words, as always,” he said, shaking his head a little to try and get rid of the feeling plaguing him. “Don’t mind me, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Derek shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll be on the lookout regardless. For now, let’s just enjoy pack night.” He managed to say the last two words without sarcasm or air quotes, for once.

As Derek shut off the car, Stiles nodded and stretched across the console to drop a kiss on Derek’s mouth. “Sounds good. We have a little bit before anyone starts showing up,” he said, grinning slyly. “What say we take advantage of that alone time?” His eyebrows did the strange wiggle thing they did when he was trying to be seductive. It always made Derek smile while he rolled his eyes.

Stiles winked and darted out of the car towards the building. Derek refrained from rolling his eyes, yet again, and climbed out more sedately. He made sure the SUV was locked and the windows were up - the dark clouds coming in made it clear that rain was on the agenda.

“Come on, old man! Chop chop, move it, move it!” Stiles shouted from the door. Only his head was sticking out at this point. 

Derek followed after, shaking his head, and smirking slightly. “Old man, eh?” he asked quietly as he followed Stiles towards the elevator. He gripped the younger man around the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder, detouring ot the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

“Ohmgahd….think I’m gonna hurl,” Stiles moaned as he was set gently back on his feet. 

“That is super attractive!” Derek grinned at him and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth as he turned to unlock the door. He tossed a look over his shoulder at Stiles as he went inside, quirking an eyebrow and reaching to start undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Would you look at that...I’m all better!” Stiles called, whipping his t-shirt over his head. Or attempting to...he groaned as the cuffs of his plaid got stuck on his wrists, with the t-shirt a tangled mess on top of that. His pants were halfway around his thighs, at this point, and he was hopping on one foot trying to fling off the other shoe. Sometimes, he wondered how he was still breathing.

Derek stalked towards Stiles with a fond smirk on his face and started towing the younger man towards the couch. “Sit.”

“Woof,” Stiles barked, but sat as ordered, with a self-deprecating grin on his face.

Derek knelt in front of him and Stiles’ heart kicked up a bit as it always did whenever he had a mostly-naked demi-god anywhere near him. Derek pried his other shoe off, then gripped the bottom of his jeans and tugged. Stiles slipped down the couch and ended up with his butt hanging over the edge, still trying to get the damn cuffs of his sleeves off. In all fairness, though, he was a bit distracted.

Derek finished pulling the jeans and boxers from Stiles’ legs, then focused on the freckles and moles spotting the muscular legs in front of him. Leaning forward, Derek pressed a trail of kisses up the length of Stiles’ body, playing connect the dot from mole-to-mole with his lips.

Stiles let his still clothed wrists flop to the couch next to him and moaned as he watched the dark head of hair progress towards his groin. “Derek…” he whimpered. “Oh..”

“Love your body,” Derek murmured, continuing to press kisses to Stiles’ thighs. His tongue darted out and licked at the pearl of pre-come building up on Stiles’ tip. This, of course, was met with another guttural groan. Derek’s hands slipped out and gripped one of Stiles’ wrists and carefully removed the shirt before going to the next one. “Love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ wrist as he freed it from the last grip of the shirt. 

Stiles ran his hands up Derek’s shoulders and leaned forward. “Love you, too,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. Their lips and tongues battled gently for a moment before Derek dragged Stiles closer. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and continued to press kisses to his jaw. 

“Hold on,” Derek said, and leaned back to stand, taking Stiles with him.

Stiles gripped Derek’s waist tighter and held on, feeling the rush that came from knowing he was being carried. Werewolf strength was pretty awesome. He ground his hips into Derek’s stomach, feeling the pleasure spike from where his length was pressed against Derek’s hard abs. 

Their tongues continued to tangle as Derek climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Stiles groaned loudly as one of Derek’s fingers slid between his cheeks, pressing gently against his hole before sliding inside to the first knuckle. Stiles tensed and arched his back at the feeling, the dryness heightening the feeling for him. “More,” he moaned, tipping his head back as Derek mouthed at his throat. “Pleeease…”

Derek smiled as he kicked the bedroom door closed behind him. “As you wish,” he whispered.

Stiles grinned at him. “Cheeseball,” he said, eyes shining with affection.

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Yep, but you love it,” he said, dumping Stiles on the bed without further ado, following after reaching for the tube sitting on the nightstand. Derek bent his head to continue mouthing at Stiles neck as he settled between spread thighs. The click of the cap was followed quickly by cold fingers pressing against the hole again. 

Stiles sucked in a breath at the sensation and felt goosebumps prick up his thighs. “I still…”he gasped as the first finger slid in, “haven’t figured out if I love the cold or hate it.” The first finger was quickly followed by a second.

“You love it,” Derek said, then pulled at one of Stiles’ nipples with his teeth as he pressed in with a third finger.

A loud groan met this as Stiles arched his back at the feeling of his prostate being bumped. His skin felt electrified, little darts of pleasure dancing along his spine. “Well, I love that, for sure, no doubt,” he rambled.

“Uh huh,” Derek murmured. “You love this more.” Derek leaned forward, pressing into Stiles slowly but surely until they were pressed flush against each other. 

“Yep.” Stiles groaned and draped his arms over Derek’s shoulders, wanting to drag him even closer. He loved this feeling, being surrounded and pressed down, trusting Derek to catch the pieces as he let himself fall apart.

Derek reached between them, slowly stroking Stiles as they both neared the tipping point. He bent down, mouthing again at Stiles’ neck before biting gently at where his neck joined his shoulders. He wished he could let his teeth sink into that flesh, make them one - finally - but he knew it wouldn’t be anything more than symbolic. He sighed slightly and pressed a kiss against that shoulder, trying to keep his thoughts from going melancholy as he wondered just how long he would get to keep this.

A moment later, Stiles tensed up and came over Derek’s hand, clamping down around him where Derek was pressed inside. Derek forced his mind back to the moment and breathed in the smell of Stiles as he followed him over the edge. 

Derek pulled Stiles closer as he slid out and flopped down next to him. Within moments, Stiles’ breathing evened out as he fell into a light sleep. Nuzzling against the top of his head, Derek let himself follow, trying to push the longing aside.

****

Stiles passed Cora the rest of the pizzas and handed the delivery guy the wad of money in his pocket. “Thanks, man,” he said, easing the door closed.

He followed Cora back into the living room where the rest of the pack were sprawled in their usual spots. Stopping for a moment, just to look at them, Stiles couldn’t help but be thankful that they were all actually here in this one spot, together. Everything they had faced, all the close calls - far too many close calls - had solidified them as a pack, a family. He was so grateful to be part of it all, so grateful all of them were in his life….even Jackson. It had taken a while, but he and Jackson were actually closer now than Stiles was with Scott, who seemed to have taken bromance to a new level with Isaac. If someone had told him this would be the case two years ago, Stiles was pretty sure he would have died laughing.

“Stilinski, are you going to just stand there all night, staring at us with hearts in your eyes?” Jackson called from his bean bag throne on the floor, smirking. He knew exactly what was going through Stiles’ mind. 

Lydia’s elbow connected with his stomach. “Leave him alone. Just because he’s in tune with his emotions better than you are -” she began, smirking at her boyfriend over her shoulder.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. Can we eat now?” he asked, bringing the conversation back to important matters.

Stiles rolled his eyes in return and picked his way over the group taking up the entire floor with bean bags, pillows, blankets, sleeping bags, and whatever other soft, squishy material they could find to make comfortable nests. Cora claimed her seat in the overly large armchair after depositing the boxes on the coffee table in the middle of them all.

Plates and cups made the rounds as everyone dug in. Stiles grabbed his and slumped on the couch next to Derek, shoulders brushing. “Everyone good?” he asked.

Grunts and nods, rather than words, met his question. Erica called “Start it up!” around a wad of pizza in her mouth.

“Did not need to see that, Erica,” he mumbled, and picked up the remote, letting the sounds of the movie pull him in.

****

About halfway through the first movie, Erica wandered into the kitchen for more drinks. The lights went off as she returned to her spot on the loveseat nestled in the vee of Boyd’s outstretched legs. 

Derek used the opportunity to maneuver Stiles so that they were both stretched out on the couch. It was a tight fit, but still comfortable. Maybe he’d invest in a deeper couch, he considered, running his nose through the hair on the back of Stiles’ head. The younger man in his arms always smelled like home and peace….and potential mate. Derek’s grip tightened slightly until Stiles squirmed and he pushed the thoughts away. He knew his luck would run out eventually….good things rarely worked out for him long-term and potential or not, he knew it wasn’t in the cards.

He felt the moment Stiles’ breathing deepened and nuzzled the back of his head again as his lover drifted to sleep surrounded by pack.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ya know. Sometimes I really would not mind being wrong,” Stiles said as he peered through the binoculars at the house set back from the road.

From the outside, there was nothing remarkable about it. Just your standard, run of the mill, semi-affluent house in central california. He heard Derek snarl an instant before his view was obstructed. 

“It’s rude to peep, don’t you think?” the voice was smooth and soft, like the babble of a brook over river stone.

Stiles lowered the binoculars and let his gaze drift up. Before him was a middle aged woman. Her jaw was a little too strong for her to be called beautiful, but she was definitely good looking - handsome. She was a handsome woman with her clear blue eyes and wavy black hair.

“Um, hi,” Stiles mumbled. The background rumble from Derek continued. He could feel it vibrating through his chest. 

“We have been waiting for you,” she continued, smiling warmly.

“Yeah….I’m really not sure if I should be flattered, confused or creeped out,” Stiles muttered.

“We’re hoping you’ll feel flattered. Your spark drew us to you, in the way that like calls to like.” She smiled again. “We mean you no harm, we simply strive for the continued growth and learning of our kind.”

Stiles looked to Derek. His rumbling had ceased during her speech - but his eyebrows were still drawn close. Nevertheless, he nodded at Stiles with a slight shrug. “She’s not lying, but I don’t trust her.”

The woman smiled sadly towards Derek. “You trust very few, I am sure.”

“So, what do you want? Why are you here?” Stiles asked, redirecting the conversation away from sensitive subjects.

“I’d like to speak to you about a learning opportunity. Would you like to come inside while we speak? You could see a selection of the books we have and meet some of the others,” she said, gesturing back towards the house.

Stiles studied her for a moment, trying to determine how much he trusted she was telling the truth. Derek’s eyebrows were no help - his expression clearly put the decision in Stiles’ court. Stiles made the decision and got out of the car. Derek followed a moment behind him.

“My name is Stiles. This is Derek,” he said.

“It is very nice to meet both of you. I am Lucinda,” she said, with another one of those smiles that either completely creeped him out or made him feel warm like fresh baked sugar cookies. “Come this way. I’ll show you around and tell you more about our circle.”

As they walked, Stiles felt a strong sense of comfort spread through him. The house was surrounded by a small wooded area and the quiet sounds of life were reassuring. Normally, they would disappear in the presence of something threatening. Like Petr.

“Why were you so interested in meeting me?” he asked, fixing his gaze on the dark haired woman walking slightly ahead of them. “And just how long have you been here? How were you drawn to me?” 

Lucinda chuckled. “One question at a time. I will happily answer all of them. We have been here for the last month now, settling in and exploring the area. I will admit we watched you and your pack a bit - we had to be sure what type of people you were before we exposed ourselves.” 

Here, she paused and a dark look crossed her face. “Our kind have been hunted much as yours,” she said with a glance to Derek. “People fear what they do not understand.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Stiles snorted. Even Derek had an understanding look on his face. “But why me?”

“Eventually, we are drawn to any powerful spark. We are rare enough that it is extremely important for us to nurture all of our kind to the height of their abilities. If we falter or fail, eventually all our hard earned knowledge would be lost to the winds and young adepts like yourself would flounder trying to find their way. We can prevent that and grow our collective knowledge rather than stagnate.” She led the way through a comfortably appointed house to a small library.

Stiles felt his jaw drop at the vast array before him of old, leather covered books. “This is just part of your collection?” he asked breathlessly. This much information on the supernatural in one place was...mind blowing to him.

Lucinda smiled. “Indeed. Over the years, we have been able to construct a large body of research. I’d be more than happy to share it with you.”

Behind him, Stiles could feel the waves of tension radiating off Derek. Looking back, all Stiles got were drawn eyebrows and tense shoulders. 

Derek looked around the room. It was too good to be true. This room was like candy to a baby for stiles. There was no way he could pass up an offer like this. Especially one with seemingly no strings attached. “So what’s the catch?” he asked gruffly, hoping to finally catch some hint of duplicity from the witch.

“No catch,” Lucinda replied, still broadcasting reassurance and smiles. “We are interested in furthering our knowledge, as I said. If anything, we would simply like for Stiles to include us on any of his discoveries in the future so that our knowledge continues to grow.”

Stiles glanced at Derek then looked back to Lucinda. “That doesn’t sound unreasonable. So are you like the head witch of your coven or whatever?”

Lucinda grimaced, the first sign of discomfort she’d shown so far, as she took a seat behind a large mahogany desk. “Covens are associated with those….practitioners,” she said, a moue of distaste on her face,” who do not have an inherent spark. They delve into darker arts and their….faux magic is tainted.” She shook herself as if to shake off the distasteful thoughts.

Stiles relaxed a bit further into the seat he’d claimed. That was new information to him. “That’s interesting. I’ve been hesitant to really dig in because I was scared about going ‘dark side’,” he said, air quotes and all.

Derek frowned at him. He’d known there was something keeping Stiles from using his talent - he just hadn’t been sure what it was. The surprised look on Stiles’ face made him wonder if he’d actually meant to say it now. Derek’s frown deepened, somehow. He really wasn’t trusting this whole scenario. Too good to be true usually was in his experience.

Lucinda continued her explanation. “Yes, many adepts are hesitant before they understand the distinctions.”

“Adept...you used that before. Like a title?”

“Adepts are what we call the untrained individuals, such as yourself, who have the potential to become wizards or mages,” she explained.

Stiles stared at her for a moment. “So are you a wizard or a mage? And what’s the difference?”

Lucinda chuckled slightly. Derek thought it was a bit condescending. “Only women can reach the mage classification. Wizard is the highest rank a man can achieve. I am a Tier 2 Mage,” she said, then moved to a shelf and pulled a large book down.

After paging through for a moment, she laid it out on the desk in front of Stiles and Derek. “See here - these are the progression pathways,” she said, pointing to a chart written by hand on the page she’d opened to. “All those with an inherent spark start as adepts. The next level is druid - again the same for both men and women. After that stage, males reach their highest rank - wizard. Women have a witch rank before attaining mage status. The power levels of witches and wizards is about the same; however, witches are able to access another, much more powerful level of their spark,” she explained.

Stiles frowned and studied the chart. “Why are only women able to get to that level?” he asked. He wasn’t too fond of the bit of discrimination going on there.

Lucinda shook her head with a frown of her own. “We aren’t sure - that’s one area we’re still researching. Maybe you will be able to add some insight. Right now, our own best guess involves a combination of brain chemistry and personality factors.”

Stiles stared at her for a moment, mentally running through a variety of possibilities. “Huh. That is interesting - also, annoying,” he said, gesturing to himself.

Lucinda nodded. “Yes, most unfortunate. But I’m sure you’ll have no trouble reaching the pinnacle of your abilities with time and dedicated study. If you’d like, I have an object that will show your spark’s potential,” she offered. 

Stiles nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’d love to see what I’ve got to work with. How does it work?”

“Well,” she began, rising from her chair and moving to a cabinet, “it is an orb. You hold it in your hands, it takes a reading, and then glows. The brightness and whiteness of that glow reflects the potential of your spark.” Lucinda pulled an ornately carved wooden box from inside the cabinet. To Stiles, it reminded him of one of those tissue box covers. But nicer…

She placed it carefully on a low table in front of the sofa in the library and waved Stiles over. Then she began easing away the top and sides of the box. With the sides laid flat, the object held prominence. A murky gray sphere sat nestled on a soft red velvet pedestal in the center of the square.

Lucinda studied the orb a moment before looking at Stiles. “It activates when held by an individual with a spark. If you are null, it does nothing. Supernatural creatures,” she said, with a glance at Derek,” cause the orb to turn brown - they are creatures of magic but do not possess a spark like ours.” Here she paused and retrieved another book that she opened and sat next to the orb. A chart with different colors was on the page. They ranged from dark blue to a very pale blue. “The stronger the spark, the whiter the color,” she explained.

“Let me demonstrate.” So saying, she reached out and lifted the sphere. It quickly began glowing a very pale blue. “The first time you hold it can be intense,” she warned and passed the orb to Stiles, watching intently. 

Derek tensed next to him, “Stiles, are you sure --”

The orb dropped into his palm, cutting off Derek’s words. For a second, he felt nothing and worried it would turn black, as the book showed the “practitioners” Lucinda mentioned earlier. The next instant, though, a shock raced through him and the orb burst into an intense, bright white, with only the faintest hint of blue pulsing at the edges.

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up and he looked at Lucinda. The expression on Lucinda’s face was shock, quickly being overcome by worry. Her hand was reaching out for the orb as it began to heat in Stiles’ palm. “What?” 

Stiles tried to make his hand release, tried to get away from the searing pain that was now swiftly pathing up his arm. He couldn’t open his fingers and moments later, his body was consumed by the roaring flames.

“Stiles!” was the last thing he heard as his eyes rolled back.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek watched as the orb dropped into Stiles’ palm. It felt like everything after that happened all at once. The room was washed in a bright white light, Stiles’ eyes rolled up into his head, and he started to collapse.

“Stiles!” Derek called, wincing at the light as he darted forward. He got beneath Stiles just in time to stop him from colliding with the floor.

Derek could hear a high pitched whine building in the room. It was joined by the rumbling, snarling growl he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. In his arms, Stiles was a dead weight, but as he tried to reach for the orb in Stiles’ hand, he felt the form in his arms begin to shift slightly. 

At first, he thought Stiles was starting to wake up, but then he realized. The shoulders were narrowing, the weight got lighter, and he swore the feet got closer. For a moment, Derek thought Stiles was melting.

Finally, the orb rolled from Stiles’ loose grip and went dark. Derek looked down at the figure in his arms.

His hair was the same length, spiking almost 2 inches off the top of his head. Stiles had been complaining about needing a haircut, Derek thought, mind wandering slightly in shock. Stiles’ face looked….the same, just more delicate, with a decidedly more feminine structure...smaller and narrower. It looked and felt like Stiles had also lost at least 50 pounds and nearly a foot of height. For all that Stiles was lanky, he wasn’t really a small guy. This….girl in his arms was tiny by comparison.

Derek shifted, placing Stiles on the ground and crouching over him protectively. He glared at the witch. “What. Did you do to him?” he ground out.

To her credit, the witch, mage, whatever, was looking a bit shell shocked. “I….I didn’t think this would happen,” she said, voice quiet. “In my circle’s entire history, I’ve only seen this recorded rarely. The last time was nearly a century ago.” Her voice was coming fast and breathless as she stared at Stiles’ unconscious form. She tore her eyes away and looked back to Derek. 

“You have to believe me. It’s been such a long time since it last happened...If I had thought this was in anyway likely, I would have warned him - I swear it!”

Derek eased back slightly. He believed she didn’t expect it to happen. That didn’t change the fact that it had, nor that she had known it was a possibility, however remote. “You should have warned him anyway. Now change him back.”

Lucinda shook her head slowly, mournfully, her previously calm and peaceful expression twisted into a picture of sympathy and sadness. “This is not undone.”

***

A faint groan interrupted Derek’s denial and he snapped his gaze back to Stiles, who was stirring. “Wha - “ he muttered, dragging his much smaller hand to his forehead.

Derek shifted over him. “Lie still,” he said, running his hand over the soft spikes of Stiles’ short hair. “You had….a bit of a shock,” he finished lamely. The real shock was yet to come.

Stiles dragged his hand down his face. He felt super weird. “What happened?” he asked, then frowned. Was that his voice? “Was that me? Oh my god, it was me. What the hell?!” 

His eyes popped open and his heart rate started galloping as he struggled to an upright position. Stiles looked over to see Derek and Lucinda staring at him. 

“It’ll be ok, Stiles,” Derek was saying. “We’ll figure this out.”

Derek attempting to be reassuring was freaking him out more. Stiles finally looked down and froze. “Derek, what the hell happened?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm as he eyed the smaller frame and baggy clothes almost obscuring two protrusions from his chest. He slowly moved his hands to palm said protrusions and felt a bit faint. He never thought the first time he felt breasts that they would be his own.

Derek reached out briefly towards Stiles but pulled his hand back before making contact. Stiles stared at him for a moment - he really wanted Derek to touch him, just to prove he was real. Or maybe to prove he was dreaming. Yes. This was just some really weird, crazy town dream.

Derek growled again and looked at Lucinda. “How...why did this happen?”

Lucinda glanced at Derek before looking back to Stiles and shook her head, still looking a bit shocked. “I honestly didn’t know this would happen.”

“But you knew it was possible,” Derek cut in, growling louder as he took a menacing step in her direction.

Stiles huffed. “But what happened?” he asked again, still trying to figure out why he had boobs.

Lucinda swallowed, her eyes huge in her pale face. “It’s rare. I truly did not expect this. In all the male sparks I’ve encountered, none have had your potential.”

Stiles stared at her, eyes larger in his more feminine face, and wished he could, just for once, not be surrounded by people who couldn’t give him a damned straight answer. “What? What the actual fuck happened? Can you please just tell me?”

Lucinda cleared her throat. “Your spark has the potential to reach the highest levels. Unfortunately, your male form would have prevented access to those levels,” she said and glanced away.

“So. You’re telling me that the orb decided to turn me into a girl so I can *potentially* reach my full potential!?” Stiles didn’t recognize the voice that was screeching his words. His heart rate accelerated and his breathing grew more shallow. He could feel the onset of a panic attack just waiting to catch him in it’s grip. 

“Essentially, yes,” the mage replied, crossing her arms defensively in front of her.

“Change me back! Seriously. Change me back, now. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do more with my spark,” Stiles demanded, panting slightly. “Change me back now!”

Lucinda looked very uncomfortable as she edged slightly away from the female form in front of her and the large werewolf growling nearby. She knew her next statement would not be received well. Again, she cleared her throat, before swallowing and saying, “I am very sorry, Stiles. This change is permanent. The magic is already working to adjust things to reflect your new reality.”

Stiles, mind snagged on one word repeating over and over, gasped as he tried to get some oxygen into his lungs. “Permanent?” His eyes rolled back for the second time as he fainted.

Once again, Derek managed to catch Stiles before he hit the floor. 

Lucinda looked at the two and continued speaking to Derek. “This is permanent. The magic will help him adjust. He and those bound to him through your pack bonds will know the truth, but for all others, it will be as though he was born this way,” she said as Derek cradled Stiles’ unconscious form to his body. “As his mate, he will rely on you most heavily as he adjusts. Do not fail him,” she said, before Derek felt compelled to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, the room was empty save a small canvas tote on the floor in the middle of the room. Derek sighed and looked down at the unconscious female form of the boy he loved. Hopefully, Deaton would have something to say about how they could reverse this change. Standing, he lifted the lighter frame and grabbed the tote bag, which appeared to contain a stack of old looking leather-bound books. 

As he left the house, Derek studied the more delicate features of the face he knew so well. He never would have said it aloud, but Derek had always thought Stiles’ features were a bit androgynous. Gorgeous, but made obviously masculine by a well-defined jaw and brow. Now, Stiles’ female jaw was slender and his eyebrow ridge was reduced. Overall, his features had taken on a more delicate look - but it was still him.

He thought about the mage’s last words before she’d disappeared. Lucinda was right - Stiles was Derek’s mate, but his wolf had never been able to make the full connection. Because his mate had been male. Werewolves could have same-sex mates - gender didn’t really matter to them from a societal stance - but because of the lack of potential offspring, the permanent mate connection couldn’t be finalized.

Contrary to popular belief, there wasn’t only one other person out of 7 billion that could be your only other half. There were many potentials, something he had always worried about in his relationship with Stiles. He was in love with Stiles, but if a mate capable of providing cubs had come along….well, his wolf would have been compelled to pursue another, regardless of how he felt about the boy in his arms.

That had been one of his main reasons for holding back his declaration of feelings for so long. It would kill both of them if (or when, with his luck) it happened.

Stiles had no idea about any of this. And Derek had no idea how to tell him.

Now it would be even worse when Stiles found out - and find out he would. Derek’s wolf was practically prancing for joy about his mate being fully compatible and Derek felt jittery to complete the bond with Stiles.

Guilt washed over him in a wave. Here Stiles had been horribly and irrevocably violated in a completely mind-boggling way - and his wolf was happy. Derek felt like crying as he placed Stiles in the passenger seat and carefully buckled him in, adjusting the seat belt to fit the slight frame slumped in the seat. 

He set the bag of books on the floor at Stiles’ feet before closing the door and crossing over to the driver’s side. Their next stop was Deaton. Hopefully, Stiles would be awake by the time they got there. Hopefully, Derek would figure out how to tell Stiles about the mate situation. Hopefully, Stiles wouldn’t feel betrayed and leave him. In his gut, Derek knew that would be the likeliest outcome of this whole debacle.

And he knew he would deserve it.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles groaned and shifted in his seat. “Weirdest dream,” he mumbled, then froze as he heard himself speak. “Not a dream. Oh my god, not a dream…” He kept his eyes shut and let his head flop back against the seat. 

“At least you’re sitting this time if you faint again,” Derek said, trying to keep a light tone as he glanced at Stiles.

“I didn’t faint. I passed out,” Stiles countered, indignant. “What happened?” he asked, holding his hands up. They were his hands….just smaller. And more delicate. What the fuck.

Derek cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. “You fa-passed out. Lucinda said the magic is supposed to help with adjusting, then she did something and vanished. She left the bag of books,” he said, gesturing to the floorboard. “The room was completely empty when I was able to open my eyes again.”

Stiles’ hand shook as he reached for the bag. This was too much to take in. He just wanted to ignore it, pretend it hadn’t happened. He realized the impossibility of that desire. It would be right in his face the first time he had to pee.

His heart rate sped up and his face blanched. Stiles pressed his too-small hands to too-small thighs and tried to breathe.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled, trying to get his attention as the car pulled to a stop. “What? Breathe!”

Stiles stared at Derek, whose hand was stretched towards him but not touching - again. He continued panting, trying to get a deep breath but not succeeding at the thought. What if Derek didn’t like him this way, as it seemed? Derek couldn’t even bring himself to touch Stiles like this. “Der-” he gasped, and then, to add insult to injury, a tear slipped down the side of his face. 

“It’s ok. We will figure this out, now just breathe. In,” Derek said as he inhaled slowly and watched Stiles try to breathe with him. “Out….In….”

Stiles was still trying to drag air into his lungs with limited success. The thoughts kept spinning in his head like a tilt-o-wheel or something. What if this really was permanent? Where would that leave him and Derek? As far as he knew, Derek hadn’t been with any women since the thing with Jennifer Blake. What if he had sworn them off? Stiles knew Derek was bi, but every relationship he’d had with a woman had ended very badly.

And his dad, what the hell was his dad going to say about this? What if he didn’t want a daughter? Was Stiles doomed to lose the two most important people in his life over this? Along with his real body?

Stiles breathing had become more labored as his panic built instead of evening out. He didn’t even realize Derek had gotten out of the car until the passenger door opened and suddenly he was there, hands hovering, but not touching, eyebrows furrowed in a concerned frown. 

“Der-” Stiles gasped and finally reached out to grab Derek’s hand.

Whatever had been holding Derek back broke and he reached out with both hands to grip Stiles’ shoulders. “Breathe, Stiles. We’ll figure this out,” he said again. “I’m here, just breathe in.” Derek inhaled deeply and watched as Stiles partially managed. “Good, now out,” he said, exhaling through pursed lips.

Slowly, with Derek’s hands on his shoulders anchoring him to the present, Stiles regained control over his breathing. Derek lifted a hand and dragged his thumb across Stiles’ cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen. Stiles sighed at the sight. “I’m such a girl,” he said weakly.

Derek snorted and dragged Stiles into his arms. “I know. We’ll figure it out,” he said, burying his nose in Stiles’ neck. He smelled pretty much the same, just a bit lighter than his normal smell. Derek pulled back and examined Stiles’ splotchy face, again using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “You still smell the same, you know. And you still look like you.”

Stiles frowned. “Are you saying I’ve always looked like a girl?” he asked, not sure how to take that. He was aware of his less-than-rugged features but he had never really considered them feminine. Despite all the times his dad said he looked like his mom. Stiles groaned and frowned harder.

Derek shook his head. “No - but I still recognize you. Your features are more...um…”

He hesitated at the other half of his sentence and Stiles raised an eyebrow. “More what?”

Derek cleared his throat and looked away. “More delicate? Feminine?” he said, then quickly added firmly, “but you’re still you.”

Before Stiles could reply, Derek ran a hand over Stiles’ short hair and stood, pulling Stiles out of the car as he went. “Let’s go see what Deaton has to say. Maybe he knows something.”

Stiles nodded and reached back for the bag of books. “Holy shit! Did I lose muscle too?” he cried, lugging the bag up and passing it to Derek after tripping over the bottom of his jeans. “You carry it for now. I apparently have to hold my pants up and I could do without another reminder for now,” he grimaced, tugging said pants up his slender hips and avoiding looking down as he did so. Stiles swallowed hard. He just wasn’t going to think about anything but getting in the door for now.

Which, apparently, was easier said than done. The first step had Stiles teetering slightly because his center of gravity was off. He huffed a sigh and tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Really?” Stiles shook his head, tried to adjust his stance a little, and set off again.

Derek had watched this and now reached out to put his hand at the small of Stiles’ back as they walked towards the entrance. Stiles shook his head slightly but didn’t say anything as he moved. The hand was nothing different than Derek had started doing since they began dating and now it added a little extra balance as he walked. 

As they went through the door, Stiles stumbled again. “Center of gravity changes suck,” he muttered.

Derek glanced towards the back room where he could hear two heartbeats. One was heading towards them. “Scott’s coming,” he muttered.

Scott ambled through the door. “Hey, did you guys see the...Stiles?” he asked, expressive face twisted in confusion and tilting his head like a puppy confronted with something it didn’t understand. “What happened?”

“It’s…” Stiles began, then stopped, momentarily at a loss for words. Deaton appeared as Stiles shook his head. He looked Stiles over for a moment in silence. “Well, I’m a girl now, apparently,” Stiles continued rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Deaton raised his eyebrows at him to continue. “Yeah, apparently my spark has a lot of potential, but only with a plumbing change.”

Deaton frowned in thought and walked away to his office without a word.

“Rude!” Stiles called after his retreating form before looking back to Scott with a grimace.

Scott, who was still staring at Stiles, mouth now hanging open slightly. “Weird. You look like you, but you make a really good looking girl.”

Stiles looked at him nonplussed while Derek growled lowly next to him. Stiles gaped between them for a moment before hiking his pants up again and stalking after Deaton, muttering under his breath. “Oh my god. I have fallen into the transexual Twilight Zone.”

A moment later, he heard Derek and Scott following. When they entered the room, Deaton was pulling a book from the shelf behind his desk. “Have a seat,” he said.

Derek deposited the bag of books onto the corner of Deaton’s desk before stepping back to stand at Stiles’ shoulder.

“Tell me what happened,” Deaton ordered calmly, moving the bag of books closer. He began pulling them from the bag as Stiles spoke.

“We got there to check it out and it was like she expected us or something. I’d only been looking at the house for, like, a minute and then she was there,” Stiles began.

Derek frowned. “I didn’t hear her before she got there,” he added.

“Yes, many powerful witches can mask their presence,” Deaton said, nodding. 

Stiles shook his head. “She said she was a...tier 2 mage?” he said, looking to Derek for confirmation. 

Deaton’s gaze sharpened on Stiles. “Are you certain? She called herself a Tier 2 Mage?”

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’. Derek nodded.

“I see,” Deaton said, leaning back briefly in his chair and looking into the distance. His reaction made Stiles’ own discomfort heighten. Deaton shook himself slightly and flipped open one of the books before glancing at Stiles and Derek. “And then?” he prompted.

“Then she went on this spiel about how she was a good witch and wanted to work together to ‘keep the spark alive’ or some crap. She described different ranks and how power was measured and then she said only women can access the highest power levels - which, sexist much?” Stiles shook his head again before continuing. “Then she pulled out this box that had an orb in it that she said would show power levels. She showed us and then handed it to me. Next thing I know, there’s this bright light and then poof - presto change-o, I’m a woman.” Stiles swallowed, sighed, and slumped back into his chair.

Derek dropped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “After Stiles uh...passed out, she said the orb detected a powerful spark and changed him so he can access it.” He paused, then, and his grip tightened slightly before he continued. “She said it was permanent.”

Deaton didn’t say anything for a long moment. Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet. With a sigh, Deaton looked at Stiles. “I fear she is correct.”

Stiles swallowed his panic back and took a deep breath. “There’s nothing we can do?” he asked.

Deaton shrugged slightly. “If the orb you held is what I suspect, then this is magic itself being self-sustaining. A spark as powerful as you say yours appeared is very rare. Granted, there is extensive training needed before you can truly harness that power, but the potential….yes, the potential is what is important.” 

He paused, looking at Stiles for a moment before continuing. “The orb was designed as a sort of….species perpetuation tool. To undo this change would go against the fundamental desires of both magic and your spark. Without a receptive spark - or one powerful enough - the change cannot happen. Unfortunately, yours appears to have been both receptive and more than powerful enough.”

Stiles blinked quickly, then abruptly stood, dragging his sagging jeans up with him. “I just….yeah,” he said, moving quickly from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek watched him go, then turned to Deaton. “You’re sure?” he asked, gruffly.

“As I said, I’ll keep looking, but I strongly feel he should be prepared to accept this is permanent. In previously documented cases, the individuals adapted. It was also reported that others reacted as though the Spark affected had always been female - including family members,” Deaton said.

Scott made a move as if to follow Stiles, but Derek stopped him with a look. “Give him a few minutes,” he said, then looked back to Deaton. “The mage mentioned that the magic would help ease the transition. I wasn’t sure what that meant.”

“Likely, as Stiles encounters people and situations, their memories of him will shift to seeing a tomboy in place of the boy,” Deaton explained. 

Scott glanced between them. “I remember him as a boy,” he said, confused.

“Pack bonds,” was Derek’s only reply. His mind was stalled in its tracks. If this was permanent, how would Stiles deal? Derek honestly wasn’t sure how he would handle something like this. His whole identity had centered on being male since he could remember.

Deaton nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. The pack bonds, along with your supernatural nature is protecting your knowledge.”

“What about the Sheriff and my mom?” Scott asked, worried.

Derek looked at his Beta. “They’re pack. They should remember.”

Scott let out the breath he had been holding. “Good. I’d go nuts if this happened to me and no one else knew. Like crazy train nuts.”

Derek grimaced and refocused on Stiles’ heartbeat. It was relatively steady. He looked back to Deaton. “So what now?”

Deaton spread his hands. “At this point, it’s best to get him home. Let him start adjusting while I check a few things.” He didn’t look hopeful. Deaton cleared his throat. “It’s also possible that the magic will literally help him adjust.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked while Derek looked at the veterinarian expectantly. 

“It could help in any number of ways, but only time will tell,” Deaton said. 

Derek shook his head. He should have known the relative verbosity Deaton had shown wouldn’t last before he returned to his enigmatic ways. 

Scott nodded along, like that actually made sense, then turned to Derek. “Are you ok with this?” he asked, after a moment.

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “How can I be?” was all he got to say before Stiles was back in the room, still holding his jeans up. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. 

“Can we go?” he asked, the higher pitched voice quiet as he started towards the door, not waiting for an answer. Scott dashed across the room and scooped Stiles into a bear hug, dwarfing the smaller frame. Stiles didn’t say anything, but one of his hands did wrap around Scott’s waist.

Deaton repacked the books and handed the bag to Derek. “I’ll be in touch as soon as possible with what I find out.”

“Thanks,” Derek said, then followed Stiles out to the car.

***

The ride back to Stiles’ house was silent. Stiles stared out the window. He knew Derek was looking his way every so often, but he didn’t know how to start the conversation that would end everything. He honestly wasn’t sure how he could do it, but he was also sure he didn’t want to selfishly hold onto Derek, now, only to postpone the inevitable, later.

No, better to get it done now. If he had to make the adjustment, both to this new body and a life without Derek, then better to just do it all at once. 

And...he felt like crying again. At least he was pretty sure he’d have cried before, in this kind of situation. 

The car pulled into his driveway. His dad wasn’t home yet, thankfully. Stiles really didn’t want to do these conversations back to back. 

Derek reached for his door handle.

“You don’t have to come in,” Stiles said quietly, reaching for his own handle. “I just need some time to myself. Such as it is,” he continued. The pressure was building behind his eyes and he really wanted to be alone for his breakdown. Derek didn’t need to be subjected to the mess he was about to become. Especially since Derek was a good person - he’d feel obligated to try and comfort Stiles. Stiles didn’t want pity or obligation.

Derek stared at him silently, then opened his door. “You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said.

Stiles’ chest clenched in panic. “Screw you. I’m still an adult. I can take care of myself,” he said with a huff and pushed himself from the car. Anger would be easier to deal with right now.

Behind him, Derek started speaking. “Stiles, what -” 

Jamming his key into the front door, Stiles called back. “Leave me alone,” then slammed the door shut behind him and thundered up the stairs, desperately trying not to trip over the hem of his pants. Again slamming the door behind him, Stiles threw himself on to his bed and let the tears come.

***

Derek sighed as he watched Stiles disappear behind the door. He knew this was not an easy situation for him to be dealing with, but he couldn’t understand why Stiles was running away from him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to suddenly find yourself in another body. 

Derek resolved to give Stiles a bit of time on his own to digest a bit, but then Derek was going to get him to talk about whatever was going on in his head. He realized, as he thought it, that there might be a touch of hypocrisy involved on his part. After all, Derek was far from verbose, even though he had opened up and shared what he was feeling much more compared to how he had been two years ago. That was mostly down to Stiles - and usually, only involved Stiles - so Derek was going to return the favor and not let the person he loved bury himself in his own head.

For now, though, there were other matters to take care of. Derek grabbed the bag of books, locked up the SUV, and followed Stiles inside. “I’m calling your dad,” he hollered up the stairs and waited for a moment. There was no response. 

Sighing, he moved further into the house and pulled out his cell phone.

***

After a while, Stiles wiped his face on his pillow, which was already pretty disgusting. His whole face felt disgusting. The last time he had cried that much, his mother had just died and he had been 8. Reaching out to the nightstand for a tissue, he caught sight of his hand and he had to reach further. 

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed before pushing himself off the bed and heading into the bathroom. Might as well wash his face and check out the damage. He was working up the nerve to pee - something he’d now been avoiding for the last hour. Stiles dragged himself upright and unbuttoned his pants. He was tired of keeping them up and didn’t need the reminder. His boxers were hanging low, but elastic was wonderful.

A stray thought about the length of the female urethra compared to the male urethra crossed his mind as he stepped into the en suite and flipped on the light with his eyes closed. Stiles angled himself to face the mirror and clenched his eyes shut again for a minute before opening them. 

He sucked in a harsh breath as he looked at the face staring back at him. He slowly reached a hand up to touch his cheekbone. “Mom…” he said, another errant tear dripping from his eye. Stiles could see his dad’s influence on his features, still, but with the eye color and overall face shape, he looked so much like his mother. His very pretty mother. So at least Scott was right there, he thought. He did make a pretty girl. Stiles groaned at the thought and the one following immediately on its heels.

How the hell was he going to even look at his dad like this? It’d be just like a walking reminder of the person they both lost. 

For the moment, he decided, he wasn’t. Stiles reached out and flipped the light back off, then rinsed his face. He was going to attempt to pee in the dark, too…and just...yeah. 

Moments later, without touching anything more than necessary, Stiles headed back to his bed, flipped his pillow over, and dragged the covers up over his head, leaving just a tiny fold open to get some fresh air into his new den. Maybe if he just went to sleep he could wake up and it would all be a dream. Not holding out much hope for that, he figured at least if he was asleep, he wouldn’t have to deal with the situation just now.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s been over two days,” Derek said, quietly, looking up the stairs.

John sighed from where he was leaning against the hallway wall. “At least he’s been taking the food from outside his door. I wish he would just come out, though.”

Derek nodded. “I get why he’s hiding. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

Straightening up from where he was, the Sheriff started walking towards the staircase. “I’m going to go talk to him. He can’t stay up there forever. It’s his senior year and he’s worked too damn hard to flush it down the toilet.” 

Derek watched him go. He’d tried to go in through Stiles’ window last night, but hadn’t even been able to touch the glass to knock. The little line of mountain ash across the window ledge had hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t even been upstairs since then. If Stiles wanted him to stay away that badly, Derek would do so until Stiles told him otherwise.

The thought had crossed his mind that maybe Stiles was blaming him for what had happened, for not being able to stop it. As much as Derek tried to tell himself that couldn’t be the case, the guilt from his wolf’s desires made him wonder. Had some part of him wished so hard for Stiles to be his mate that this had been the result? Surely the universe didn’t see him as important enough to listen to him. 

Sighing, Derek took up the Sheriff’s former position and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up the stairs. The rest of the pack was at school, making it all too tempting to listen to what was happening above him. 

***

John stopped outside of Stiles’ bedroom door and knocked. “Stiles? I’m coming in,” he said, not asking for permission, just giving warning.

Reaching above the door, he grabbed the key that would unlock the door through the small hole in the handle. John quickly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark room his son had been holed up in for days. There was a large, unmoving lump in the middle of the mattress, surrounded by blankets all the way up to the pillows.

“Can you actually breathe in there?” John asked, moving closer to sit on the edge of the bed. He guessed he was sitting at Stiles’ back, but wasn’t sure.

“Yeah,” came a very quiet, muffled response.

John swallowed, more taken aback by the higher pitch of the quiet response than anything, which he honestly didn’t expect. He’d prepared himself mentally, having heard about the change his son had gone through. Honestly, he really wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. And knowing that, he couldn’t even imagine how Stiles was handling it.

What John did know, though, was that he was going to do whatever he could to help Stiles - either getting it reversed or finding a way to deal with it if it was permanent. He wasn’t going to leave Stiles on his own, not like he had after his mother had passed.

John reached out and placed a hand on where he figured Stiles’ ankle was hiding under the blankets. Even through the layers of fabric, he could feel that it was smaller. He could see that the figure on the bed was much slighter than his son should have been in the same position.

“Look, kiddo. I can’t imagine what this is like for you,” John began, pausing again to swallow past the lump in his throat. “But I’m here for you. We’re all here - and we’re going to do our best to help figure this out, ok?” 

The lump took a deep breathe and let it out in a sigh. “I don’t want to figure it out. I just want it to go away,” came the despondent reply, still in that muffled, higher pitched girl’s voice.

John’s heart clenched. “I know, bud. I know. But that’s not going to happen. We can’t just ignore it until it goes away. And you can’t just stay up here, cocooned in your bed. You need to get moving again.” John squeezed the ankle in his grip gently. “You’re the researcher, aren’t you? Everyone’s been looking for an answer, but we need your help.”

There was silence from the lump for a long moment. John rubbed the ankle in his hand, trying to show Stiles that he was there.

Finally, Stiles asked the question he had been brooding on for the last two days. “What if there is no answer, dad?” he sniffled slightly. “What if I’m stuck as a….like this?”

“Oh, Stiles.” John rubbed his eyes with his other hand, feeling a bit of moisture come away on his fingers. He hurt for his kid and wished he could just make it better. “If you’re stuck like this, we’ll find a way to make it work. You’re my kid and I love you, whoever that happens to be.”

There was another sniffle from underneath the blanket, before a tremulous, “Yeah?” was asked.

John huffed a very slight laugh. “Yeah, kiddo. You know, your mom and I thought we were having a girl when she was pregnant with you.” He chuckled again slightly. “Yeah, you were a bit shy on the ultrasound and the doc was convinced you were a girl.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asked. John had never shared this particular story with him before.

“Yep. Thought you were a girl. Your room was pink when we brought you home and everyone had gone nuts with all these frilly little dresses and tiny little outfits that your mom thought were precious.” He paused a moment. “I thought they were precious, too. I was pretty excited at the thought of having a little girl that looked just like my beautiful wife running around. Course, I started having these dreams about shooting the boys who’d come knocking at our door.”

John chuckled again. “Still got the boy knocking at the door, didn’t I? Too bad I never got to shoot him.”

Stiles snorted a little. “Dad…”

Sobering slightly, John squeezed the ankle again. “Anyway, out you popped with a different set of plumbing than we expected, but we were never upset. You were our baby and any way you happened to be, we were going to love you to bits regardless.”

There was silence in the room for a bit as Stiles absorbed it all. “I look like mom,” he said quietly.

John swallowed. “Kiddo, you’ve always looked like your mom.”

“Yeah, but….it’s way more obvious now,” Stiles said, hesitantly.

John hated that his normally talkative son was so quiet. “Will you let me see?” he asked.

There was silence for a few moments and very little movement from the lump. Slowly, John watched as the lump shifted over and an arm crawled towards the top of the blanket. Stiles peeled the edge of the blanket down slowly 

Staring at him with wide brown eyes was Stiles. It was obviously Stiles...and he was right, it was a bit more apparent how much he took after his mother this way, but John had long grown used to seeing his dead wife peeking back at him from his son’s face. 

He nodded slowly and reached out a hand to grip the back of Stiles’ neck in a comforting grip. “Yeah, I see what you mean,” John said, then smiled wryly. “Scott was right though. You do make a pretty girl.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, really?” he asked, smiling very slightly.

“Yep. Now come here. I haven’t seen you in a few days,” John said, dragging his kid towards him into a bear hug. He kissed the top of Stiles’ head. “Love you, no matter what, ok? You’re my kid and that’s all that matters.”

Stiles’ now-slender arms reached out and wrapped around John, holding on tightly. “Thanks, Dad. I don’t know what to do,” he said into John’s shoulder and heaved a sigh.

“Well….you could start by coming downstairs and getting something to eat,” John said, carefully. “Derek’s here. I think he’s on the verge of permanent facial damage with all the frowning he’s been doing.”

Stiles was quiet for a minute. “Why is he still here?”

John was so surprised that he couldn’t reply right away. “Um. Because you’re his boyfriend and he loves you?”

Stiles head shook on his shoulder and he clung a little tighter. “Not like this,” he muttered.

“Kiddo,” John sighed. “I think you really talk to Derek. Don’t assume based on whatever is going through your head.”

Stiles swallowed audibly. “Yeah, ok.” 

There was quiet for another few moments as John continued to hold Stiles. “So, um...could I borrow some sweats?”

John frowned. “Sure, but what’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s all….changed,” Stiles began and pulled back. He shook his fingers briefly in jazz hands. “Magic.”

“Magic. Right,” John said. “Let me go grab some stuff. Are you going to shower?” he asked, looking at the greasy mess that was on top of Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “N-no...not just yet.”

John just nodded and didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to push too much. Stiles would get there and John was just glad he was going to emerge from his cave. “Ok, be right back,” he said, standing and heading out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay!! I'm boycotting the month of July going forward. Car got totaled in a rear end collision, amongst other things, and life has just been crazy. For future reference, pick up trucks win against compact sedans. Make a note.

Stiles watched his dad leave the room again after dropping off the sweats. He dragged the pants on under the covers and wrapped the hoodie around himself before getting out of the bed. He had to pull the drawstring tightly closed and, even then, they seemed to hang off his hips.

Oh god….he had actual hips now, he thought, breath speeding up for a minute before he forced himself to calm down.

Wrapping his hands in the sleeves, Stiles stepped into the upstairs hallway. He trailed one hand down the bannister as he descended, stabilizing himself slightly against the unfamiliar center of gravity that had been thrust upon him. 

Stiles paused as he reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at he walks. The pictures from his childhood were hanging there, looking back at him with smiling features. At first glance, they looked the same. But then his eyes stuck on one in particular. 

Pigtails. He had pigtails in the picture from kindergarten. 

As he looked closer at the other photos, Stiles could see additional hints at the changes the magic had made. In one when he was a toddler, Stiles could see a frilly yellow dress with teddy bears playing on it. In another, he was wearing a pink Dora t-shirt and jeans. And pigtails again. 

Stiles leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and slid down slowly, wrapping his arms around himself. He wanted to go right back upstairs and bury himself under the covers again, but his dad was right. He wouldn't find any answers that way. 

"Stiles?" Came a quiet, familiar, and loved voice. 

Stiles looked down the hallway to the kitchen and saw Derek standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked awkward and his expression was hard to read. Somewhere between blank and distaste, Stiles thought. He really couldn't tell. 

"Derek, hey," he murmured, looking away. "Why are you here?" 

The silence stretched out and Stiles finally looked up to see if Derek was still there. He was. And he was looking at Stiles with a sad scowl on his face, one eyebrow raised slightly. It was a strange look for him. 

"You really have to ask?" Derek questioned with a sigh. He shook his head. "Hungry?"

Stiles stared at him another minute, forehead creased in confusion, before nodding slowly. "Yeah..."

Without another word, Derek jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen and spun and walked away. 

Stiles wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. He knew Derek loved him, at least when he had been himself...and real love wouldn't just disappear because of a temporary change...but if it was permanent, Stiles had no idea how he would deal with that, let alone expect Derek to be fine with things. 

Holy shit, Stiles thought. Sex. What about sex?

His breathing sped up again. How had he completely forgotten about sex? Little spots started dancing in front of his eyes. He had been actively avoiding thinking about his changes except in the most abstract of ways, but suddenly, this particular aspect was chasing its tail in Stiles' brain. 

A pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders and Stiles was startled out of his spinning thoughts. He focused automatically on the person in front of him, recognizing the kaleidoscope eye color that he lived so much. 

"Stop. I'm here. Look at me," Derek said in that infuriatingly calm way he adopted whenever Stiles verged on a panic attack. "Whatever it is, just stop. We just have to deal with one part at a time, ok? And right now, that's getting you fed. With me?" he asked, voice gruff with concern. 

Stiles swallowed hard and tried to breathe in, staring at Derek's eyes. He nodded jerkily. Food. He could deal with food. "One thing at a time." 

Derek's hands ran soothingly along Stiles' upper arms and, for a moment, the blank mask he'd been wearing dropped to reveal pain and hurt and longing and love before he quickly hid them. 

Derek started to back off but Stiles couldn't watch him leave again, despite knowing hay it was going to be inevitable anyway. He could take one last selfish minute before he let Derek go. Slumping forward, Stiles buried his face in Derek's neck, breathing in the familiar scent. If he kept his eyes closed and didn't move or think much, he could almost pretend that everything was fine and as normal as it ever got for them. 

Derek dragged Stiles up against his chest, wrapping strong arms around Stiles' much smaller frame. "I'm here and I love you," he murmured. 

Stiles nodded slightly. "I love you, too." He swallowed again as he pushed away. "I'm sorry. I know we need to talk," he started. 

Derek wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and cut off what Stiles was saying. "We will, but let's get you fed first."

Stiles nodded and accepted the hand Derek extended to help him stand. 

"Come on. Your dad's in the kitchen and the rest of the pack will be here in a few hours. Last chance for relative peace before they descend," Derek said with just a hint of smile. 

He tugged at Stiles hand as he started towards the kitchen again but didn't release his grip. Stiles was fine with that.


End file.
